the three of them.
“Your mother taught you better than this,” he rasped, his gray hair long and unkempt. “You shame her memory, Laneus. As do you, Aedus.”
“But, Papa!” Laneus said, gesturing to his bloody nose. “Look what she did! And this is—”
“I know very well who she is,” the old man responded. He stared at Halcyon a long moment, but she could not read the lines on his face. “Take her to Bacchus. Now.”
The brothers obeyed, grumbling. They waited until they had dragged Halcyon out of their father’s sight, up the road that wound to Euthymius’s temple.
Halcyon never saw it coming. Although she should have expected it.
Laneus struck her, as he had always wanted, along the curve of her jaw. It was the only time he would ever beat her: when she was overtaxed, when she had not eaten a proper meal in days, when she was held prisoner.
And Halcyon folded into the darkness.
When Halcyon stirred, the world had changed. Or so it felt to her. She was bound to a thick post in the center of Dree’s market by her wrists and ankles. It forced her to remain on her knees with her chest and face defenseless, the plank aligning with her spine. She knew exactly what this was, even before she fully opened her eyes, quietly testing the ropes that bit into her. She was fastened to the Thief’s Stave, a public place of shame that she had passed many times as a girl, never imagining she would one day wake to find herself tied to it.
The stave was the mildest of punishments for thievery. The thief would be knotted to the wood and would wait in shame for another to come and pay their debt. Some thieves, such as those who stole jewels or horses might find themselves bound for days.
She was fortunate Laneus had not pressed the heavier charge upon her, one that would result in losing a hand.
The sun was hot on Halcyon’s hair, and her head felt as if it had split open. She cracked her eyes to see the blur of people moving about the market, and then one particularly ugly face came into focus. Laneus.
“I caught her, I did,” he was saying to anyone who passed by. “Stealing my winter goods. I caught her before she could take one morsel from me.”
“Looks like she got a little swing at you,” a man said mirthfully, indicating Laneus’s nose, which still sat crooked on his face.
Laneus sputtered some indignant response, and Halcyon closed her eyes once more, struggling to swallow. Her throat was dry; her lips were peeling. How long had she been bound here?
“You thirsty, Halcyon?”
She kept her eyes shut, even as she felt Laneus’s presence draw close. He was pouring water out on the ground; the trickle was like music to her, and Halcyon inadvertently strained toward it.
“Come now, Hoplite. Show us your illustrious strength,” he goaded. “Break your binds, like the goddess everyone believes you to be.”
“If water means so little to you, Laneus, then perhaps you could do without it,” a deep voice spoke, and at once the water trickle ceased. “The same could be said of your food stores. If you have plenty, it would not harm you to share.”
Halcyon looked up and saw Bacchus standing nearby, the breeze stirring his brown robes. He was an old man of mysterious age, his hair a thin crown of white on his head, but his voice was strong and resonant.
Bacchus was the only priest of Euthymius in the kingdom. The only mortal who could speak with and hear the god of earth and beasts. He also possessed the relic of Euthymius, and he wore it openly, fearlessly. The Golden Belt was cinched at the priest’s waist now, etched with mountains and fauna. Bacchus was common-blooded, but wearing the belt gave him the ability to command animals.
Halcyon wondered if he would be required to return the relic to the Mages’ Council, as the new decree stated. Or if he would defy the edict.
Bacchus stared at Laneus until he slunk away. Only then did the old priest look at Halcyon, and she felt a flare of shame.
“I take it your parents do not know you are here, Halcyon of Isaura,” Bacchus said, voice pitched low. “Or Lord Straton.”
“No, Lord.” Her jaw throbbed with the movement.
“Laneus wanted to take your hand in punishment. I would not allow it.”
She tried to swallow. Her tongue stuck to her teeth as she whispered, “Thank you.”
Bacchus knelt and